Time has run out on this blame game

I have used your expectations as an excuse to be self-conscious

You are not the reason I’m afraid to expose imperfections

Pretty little boxes tied up with big bows

Holding in my addictions and disappointments

Everyone else’s gift seems prettier than mine

Feeling as if it’s the only one so ugly inside

What truth do I have to sit on pins and needles that prick skin

A tortured soul holding sin

Kept forcefully inside this space

Not much for this keepsake

Value was lost indefinitely

Until I decided to open wounds and display this imperfection

It may not match, but don’t get it twisted

My gift is still worth its weight

Bright red coloring outside the lines

Wrinkles at the bottom of my hems

Frizzy curls with straight ends

I was never meant to be perfect

Only priceless